by E. Jamie
“You should come. It might be cool,” he suggested with a shrug. “Where's the soda?” He nonchalantly turned his attention to the basket next to him.
“We drank it already,” Laura replied.
“So, you coming?” he asked, pulling out another bottle.
Her cheeks were sort of flushed pink, and he wondered if it was the warmth of the sun, or was Laura blushing?
“Huh? Where?” she asked, blinking.
“The dance, dummy.” His mouth felt very dry, and he took another bite of the apple.
“Sorry, gown is at the cleaners,” she joked.
“You're hilarious,” Caleb remarked, rolling his eyes. He leaned back and laid himself flat on the warm grass. Maybe it would be easier to ask her if he didn’t have to look at her—but then she decided to lay herself next to him.
“It's a school dance. You don't have to wear a dress,” Caleb pointed out.
“Forget it, Blue Eyes. I don't dance,” she snapped.
“I could teach you,” he offered in a soft voice.
She was a good student, not that he was all that great at it. He knew enough as any other fifteen-year-old guy, he guessed. He taught her how to simply shuffle her feet back and forth in time to the music, and he told her she was a good dancer.
When he held her hand while they walked into the crowded gym, it was clammy against his skin, and Caleb didn’t know if it was his nervousness or her own. He did know that his heart was pounding in his chest because Laura had told him that he cleaned up good.
He told her she looked pretty, expecting her to laugh and roll her eyes.
She didn’t.
She was wearing her nice jeans and a pink tank top with a trim of white lace that he’d never seen before. The gym was dark, but Caleb knew everyone was looking at them. They were all going to rag on him tomorrow, and he guessed he was going to have to knock out a few teeth.
But as Caleb held her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck, he didn’t care.
At the end of the night, he walked her halfway home and told her he was glad she’d decided to come, even though he knew it wasn’t her thing.
He stopped for a moment and wondered if he should dare to kiss her like he had the most overwhelming urge to. Caleb leaned his head in a little towards her and almost did it…but then that idiot Stephenson's dog started barking, startling them both.
He found himself wondering what it would have felt like if he had kissed her, and when he remembered that she had moved her head in too, he almost floated the rest of the way home.
****
Laura returned with a pair of 'frak me' heels that made Caleb's mouth water when he imagined them up around his hips. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus back on what they were doing here. They were here to rescue these children being adopted and sold into—God help them, sexual slavery.
“How the hell are you gonna fight in those?” Caleb asked, pointing at her shoes. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder while she slipped them on.
She giggled softly. “You know nothing about women, Detective.” She strapped her gun around her left thigh, and Caleb thought she was surely trying to kill him.
“Ready?” Laura asked, straightening.
Mission, Caleb thought. Mission.
She walked out of the closet first, straightening her flight attendant’s uniform, wire taped securely underneath. Laura made sure nobody saw them, and after she shut the door Caleb spoke into the walkie-talkie, letting Karl know they were about to start. He waited in the dark for a few minutes until he was certain it was safe to come out.
He took his place by the sliding doors and lowered his head to pretend to speak into the walkie-talkie when he saw Mankell and a few of his goons coming toward the doors.
“You've come to the right place.” Mankell's voice was clear while he spoke into his cell phone, coming closer. “Any particular preference?”
“We have mostly boys left. The girls are quite popular,” he informed whoever was on the other end.
Then he walked through towards the waiting jet and Caleb’s heart rate doubled, knowing Laura was there on the plane and until she gave the signal, he could do nothing but hang back and wait.
Through his earpiece, Caleb could hear Laura make her way through the plane, and his heart stopped at the sound of children shuffling around, sniffling and some outright weeping.
“Now,” Laura whispered, and Caleb spoke into the radio, signaling to the other cops to make their way to the plane.
His blood raced through his veins, and he despised the worry churning through him now. He was a damn good cop, but all he could think of was Laura being in the same space as that monster.
He felt sick when he heard a little girl’s voice. “Go home now? Me wanna go home!” the little girl wailed.
Caleb's heart broke a little, and he heard Laura’s voice, soft and low.
“What's your name, honey?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Katie. Wan' my mommy!” she cried, and Caleb saw her wrap her arms around Laura's neck after he slowly made his way up the stairs to the jet, into the entrance by the cockpit that Laura had ordered the pilot to leave open without Mankell’s knowledge.
The pilot looked at both at them with wide, nervous eyes. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just hired to fly the plane. I don’t—”
Caleb pressed a finger to his mouth. He heard steps coming towards the cockpit and crouched down by the co-pilot’s seat.
Laura’s arms tightened around the little girl, and she started to set her down. The girl shifted around in her arms, not wanting to be let go, and Caleb looked up from his place next to the empty seat when he heard a soft clatter.
Laura swore under her breath, and Caleb saw her gun slip from its holster to the floor with a little clang, loosened by the toddler's squirming feet.
The sliding door that kept the children from Mankell in the other half of the plane suddenly opened.
Mankell's eyes widened when he saw the gun on the ground, and recognition dawned when his gaze moved back up to Laura’s face. “Bitch!” he swore, pulling his gun out from inside his jacket.
Caleb moved faster, coming out from behind the open cockpit area, and plugged him in the chest before Mankell could get the shot off.
Shocked into action, Mankell's guards began to rain bullets their way. Laura dropped to the ground, on top of the girl, and grabbed her gun off the floor and began firing back while Karl and the other officers swarmed the plane and joined the insane gun battle. Laura ushered the girl and six other children toward the cockpit with the pilot.
“Stay here and don't come out for anything. Got it? We'll come get you soon,” Laura promised and turned away from the screams of the frightened children, shutting the door before moving back to the gunfire.
“Laura!” Caleb screamed when the chaos cleared after they'd fired the last shot and Mankell and his men were all dead. He saw the blood running down Laura's chest, and his entire body seized with panic. He rushed towards her and caught her when she swayed, white faced, and fell forward into his arms.
“Please…,” she murmured, her eyes unfocused. “Let me….tell Caleb…love him…I die,” she unknowingly whispered out loud before closing her eyes.
Caleb gathered Laura up in his arms, the adrenaline in his blood giving him the strength so that she weighed almost nothing to him. “Karl! Call an ambulance! No! No! No!” he pleaded, sliding along the blood on the carpet as he sat in the closest seat and held her against him. Laura's blood. “Oh God,” he murmured, holding her closer. “Laura, Laura, can you hear me? Karl!” he screamed, finally setting eyes on the younger man.
Karl went pale when he set eyes on Laura's bloody form. “Oh no.” He turned toward the crowd of cops behind him. “You!” He pointed to one of the other cops. The baby-faced rookie stood quickly at attention, his brown eyes wide with the shock of the fight. “Get on that. Get an ambulance here RFN! And you!” Karl j
abbed a finger in the direction of another cop. “Get those kids out of there and back in the airport.” He delegated orders rapidly.
Caleb stroked Laura's face, tears blurring his own vision. “Laura. Laura. Please open your eyes, baby. Please. Laura, please!” he wailed, bringing her up against him and burying his face in her neck.
Let me tell Caleb how much I love him before I die.
Caleb rained kisses on her face. “I heard you, Laura. Can you hear me? I heard what you said. I love you, damn it. Wake up so you can hear me say it! I love you. I love you. I love you,” he chanted into her hair, damp with sweat. “You are not gonna tell me that and then die. Do you hear that? You are not leaving me after all this shit.” He rocked her in his lap. She will not die, he told himself. God would not take her from him after everything. After they'd fought so hard to be friends again. After he had started to have hope that someday, somehow, they might be more.
The paramedics rushed in and reached down to pick Laura up out of Caleb's arms. For an irrational second he refused to relinquish her, afraid that he'd never hold her again, but a tiny flicker of logic told him it was okay. He needed to let her go so that they could help her. He straightened her skirt, covering her thighs, and came away with more blood.
Fix her, he thought, getting to his feet after he relinquished his hold on her and then wrapping his arms around himself when they were empty. Fix her so I can tell her I love her too. Love her and I'm not afraid anymore. No. Now his fear had a new direction. Losing Laura. Instead of her hurting him again. He'd be willing to let her break his heart every day until the day he died if she survived this.
She will, Caleb told himself. There was no other option. “Please,” he said, looking up when they wheeled Laura out toward the waiting ambulance. Nobody looked his way; they were all running around doing their assigned jobs. “Please don't let her die.”
Chapter Twelve
“It's not finished yet,” seventeen-year-old Laura insisted, holding the scrapbook to her chest when Caleb tried to take a peek.
“Oh, for shit’s sakes, Laura,” he grumbled, sitting on the windowpane.
She motioned with her finger for him to turn his head back to the side.
“It's been an hour. My ass is asleep, and the sun is setting right in my eyes. You're soon gonna have to name your drawing 'Ode to Squinty.'
“Close your eyes then. I'm done drawing them, but stay put and quit your complaining, you big baby,” Laura insisted.
He turned and stared at her. “Baby, huh? Baby?” Then he dived for her, pulling her off the chair and down onto the carpet.
“No! Caleb. The picture. I need to—ow! My hair,” she shrieked when his elbow trapped her long blonde hair on the carpet.
“Oh, quit your complaining, you big baby,” he taunted, trapping her between his thighs.
“Oh, you pig!” She socked him in the arm, and he lowered his body onto hers until they were nose to nose.
“Oink oink, baby.” He smiled smugly and then kissed her.
****
“The bullet's done damage to her heart. I can try and repair it—”
“Don't try. Do it!” Caleb yelled, making the poor doctor jump.
“I can't make any promises, Detective. The damage is pretty severe.”
“Tell you what. She dies, so do you,” Caleb snapped, taking out his sidearm and pointing at the panicky doctor.
“Whoa, McKinney. Easy there!” Karl insisted, trying to push his hand down. “Everybody's a bit freaked out right now, but you need to not shoot the nice doctor here, okay?”
Caleb gave a small jolt, realizing what he was doing. “God. I'm sorry. Just...God…” He lowered his arm and took a step back, running his fingers through his hair. He realized he was still covered in blood. He hadn't yet washed Laura's blood off of him. He was afraid to. Afraid that her blood on him would be all he had left her of her when this was over.
The surgery took all night. Caleb's father came to the hospital.
Caleb wished he had Laura's rosary beads with him. She was much more of a believer than he was, but it would feel good to hold them in his hands.
As if reading his mind, his father gave him a small smile and handed Caleb the small black rosary wrapped in black cloth.
For a while, he just touched them, running his fingers along the shiny black beads; then he leaned his head on his dad's shoulder. It felt like his head was just too heavy to hold up anymore, so heavy that even hating his dad didn’t strengthen him enough to stay upright. “Dad...she can't die. She just...can't.” His voice was thick and choked with tears.
Caleb couldn’t seem to hold on to his anger against his father when he could see how worried the old man also was about the woman they both loved.
He made a deal with God in his mind: if Laura pulled through, he promised he would try and forgive his dad.
And now to imagine Laura dying? After how hard they’d all tried to work past their anger. After he never got to tell her that he thought he wanted to try again? Impossible. Impossible!
Caleb growled deep in his chest, an animalistic sound of refusal.
William leaned across his seat in the waiting room and wrapped an arm around his son. “She'll make it through this. She will,” he assured him, but his voice trembled while he said the words.
****
He kneeled against Laura's bedside. The doctor told him that he had done what he could. He didn’t know yet if it was enough. Caleb held Laura's rosary in his hands. He wished he could remember how the prayer went.
****
“Shush!” Laura insisted when Caleb giggled and nudged her knee while they sat in the church. “I'm gonna hurt you if you don't stop talking.”
She turned her head forward and resumed listening to the priest. Caleb looked around, admiring the architecture, the beautiful stained glass, tuning out most of the priest's sermon.
After a while, even the impressive architecture couldn’t keep his attention. Bored, he leaned his head on Laura's shoulder and blew a soft puff of air against the skin of her neck. She jumped and then pinched his thigh. Hard.
“That hurt!” he hissed.
“Good!” she hissed back. “Now shut your damned yap.”
Caleb clucked his tongue. “Swearing in church. For shame, Laura. Bad, bad girl.” He smiled devilishly at her. Then he got an idea, and his hand drifted down and he played with the soft skin beneath the hem of her blouse.
She kicked him while she blushed. “If you stop being a two-year-old while we're here, then I'll...” She whispered her bribe in his ear, and Caleb immediately hardened.
He was the picture of saintly devotion for the rest of the Mass, but he still spent more time watching Laura than listening to the service. Her face was rapt and beautiful as she took in the priest's words. Silently, her hand moved to cover Caleb's.
****
“Lord... hear my prayer...” It was the only prayer he knew. The simply stated plea. Yet his entire heart was in it. “Please don't take her from me. I beg you. I know I've done things...terrible things that I'm not proud of here...but if you just give me this small thing, I promise, I'll be a better man. I just...you might as well take me too if you're going to let her die, because I can't live in a world where Laura isn't anymore. Take me too if you're going to take her. Oh God...” He lowered his head, the pain too much to bear. He rested it against Laura's stomach. “Take me instead. Please. Take me instead. Take me instead. Take me,” he whispered against the blankets.
He fell asleep begging for God to let him take her place.
Caleb had been at Laura's bedside for the past four days with barely any rest. No food other than a few energy bars Karl managed to scrounge up and forced him to eat.
“Why isn't she awake?” he asked, not turning to look at Karl or the doctor. “She should be awake by now, shouldn't she?” He clutched Laura's hand. “Why doesn't she open her eyes?” he asked, reaching up to brush some blonde strands off of her forehead.
&nb
sp; He’d been so mean to her, so cruel, and now this was his punishment. God had brought her back into his life, just like he had always prayed for, and Caleb had tossed that gift aside. He feared there would be no more chances.
He realized with a start that the doctor…what was his name, he thought, trying to think past the exhausted fog in his mind…Dr. Comel, was talking to him. “What?” he asked; his eyes burned and felt dry, and the doctor was blurry.
“The bullet to her chest did too much damage. She needs a transplant.” The doctor took a small step back toward Karl and William and Caroline as well, who’d arrived the night Laura was brought in.
Caleb rose from his seat and clenched his fists at his sides. With a four-day growth of a beard, bloodshot eyes and a pale, tired complexion, he was aware that he must look more like a crazed sociopath than a policeman. “Do it,” he growled, storming toward the doctor.
